My mother, Joan Ibbetson, only child of Clarence and Edith nee Precious, was a Leeds loiner of three generations on one side and two on the other and remained fiercely proud of her home city for all her 83 years.

“Leeds leads where others follow” was one of her favourite sayings, repeated often during her ‘exile’ in the less exalted surroundings of Bedfordshire where I grew up and I soon realised that nowhere else would ever match up to her home city for her.

Born at home in Meanwood on July 8, 1917, she spent her first few nights under the kitchen table in her mother’s arms, for fear of a repeat of the Zeppelin raid which had brought death and destruction to the city only the month before.

Despite not meeting her father until the end of the war, Joan became a real daddy’s girl, sharing a love of sport which she kept all her life and remaining a tomboy, much to my ladylike grandmother’s despair.

Her tales of afternoons spent with him watching Leeds teams in both codes of rugby (although her great love was always League) and long days spent at Headingley cricket ground watching both county games and test matches, always brought a smile to her face.

As a firm believer in education, stemming from having to leave school at 14 to bring in money for his family, Clarence made sure his daughter went to a good school. Despite being an able student at more academic subjects at Lawnswood Girls School, her favourite lesson was always Games and she found lunchtimes when wet weather kept them indoors something of a trial which turned her mind to mischief.

That mischief led to persuading a friend to join her in using a basement door to gain access under the main gymnasium where country dancing classes were taking place: classes that were interrupted by mysterious but persistent knocking under the floor which caused consternation amongst the dancers, with some talk of poltergeists!

Pleased with the reaction, Joan repeated the escapade and escaped unscathed twice, but it proved third time unlucky when she emerged from under the floor to find a teacher waiting. Her luck hadn’t entirely deserted her however, as it was the games mistress, of whom she was a favourite so the punishment was not quite as severe as it might have been: occupying a wet lunchtime in tidying the Games cupboard seemed a small price to pay for her fun.

She played cricket and tennis for the school and told stories of trips to play teams from some of Yorkshire’s well-known girls’ boarding schools when the Lawnswood team deliberately ate little at the lavish tea that was put on for them to allow the home team chance to eat far nicer food than they were usually given.

Leaving school with respectable exam results, she enjoyed her job for an insurance company but was infuriated to discover that its status as a reserved occupation put paid to her hopes to join either the WRNS or WAAF’s when war broke out. She had to settle for being a fire watcher, keeping an eye out for damage caused by the German bombing raids aimed at destroying the city’s industry, though the stories she told about the period, made me realise that she still very much enjoyed her life with its seize the day ethos.

She returned to live in Yorkshire in 1979, but the Leeds she found then was very different from the city she remembered. As a result she kept her visits few and far between, preferring to remember HER city as it had been, though she remained a Leeds girl to the very end.